Land of My Heart

by Tracie Peterson

  I won’t acknowledge them, she told herself. I will ignore them and they will leave me be. But she couldn’t help but remember the day her father had been killed. She’d ignored those men, as well, and they hadn’t left her alone.

  By the time they’d reached the other side of town, Dianne liked Virginia City no better. The streets were crowded with an amazing number of people, but no one seemed overly friendly.

  Morgan and Zane drew their wagons to a halt on the side of the road and Dianne had no choice but to follow suit. If she’d been in charge, she would have just kept going. There was something about the area she just didn’t like.

  “Ma, there was a post office back a ways,” Morgan called out as he came back to their wagon. “And Zane spotted the newspaper office. We’ve tied off the teams and will head over there and see if anyone knows where we can find Uncle Bram.”

  “Good. Find out where his house is and we’ll just head right over,” their mother agreed.

  Zane had come up by this time and looked to Dianne. “Will you two be all right while we’re gone? This place seems more than a little rowdy.”

  “We’ll be fine,” their mother answered before Dianne could speak. “Just go find out where your uncle lives.”

  Zane and Morgan nodded and hurried back down the street. Dianne looked up to see her mother craning around to watch the twins as they walked away. Her look betrayed her anxiety—her desperation. Dianne felt sorry for her mother. It had to be so very hard to have lost her husband and two daughters, have a son desert them, then endure the long trail to Virginia City, all while carrying a baby.

  “Mama, are you feeling all right?”

  Her mother turned back around and settled her gaze on Dianne. “I’m all right. I’ll be better when we find Bram.” She sounded almost afraid. “I could use a good strong cup of tea.”

  “I’m sure it won’t take long,” Dianne tried to encourage. Though she’d never been all that affectionate or endearing, now Susannah Chadwick was even more estranged than before. Dianne felt a coldness— almost a hostility—directed toward her and the twins. Did their mother resent them for living when the others had died? Did she hate them for enduring or even suggesting the hard trip when Trenton had refused to come?

  They waited for nearly an hour before the twins returned. The news was not going to be good—Dianne could see that by their expressions.

  “Well?” their mother questioned.

  Morgan spoke first. “Folks know Uncle Bram but haven’t seen him in months. They don’t know where he actually lives, but it isn’t here.”

  “One man said Uncle Bram has a place north of here, but he didn’t know how far away it was or how to get there,” Zane threw in.

  Dianne was unprepared for their mother’s response. Without warning, she came flying off the wagon seat and over the side. Morgan barely had a chance to help her. The baby hardly seemed to encumber her as anxiety gave her energy.

  “He must be here. Dianne sent him a letter months ago. He should be here waiting for us. I’ll go to the hotel we passed and ask there. He might very well be there right now.”

  “I’ll go with you, Ma,” Morgan said, stepping forward.

  “No! I’ll do this myself. You stay here and keep track of the wagons and your sister.”

  Their mother stormed down the street like a general about to take over the territory. Zane and Morgan looked to Dianne as if she had answers.

  “What are we going to do when she doesn’t find Uncle Bram?” Dianne questioned instead of offering solutions.

  “I don’t know,” Zane replied. “What if he’s moved out of the territory all together? What if he headed to Missouri when you wrote him with the idea of coming west?”

  “Oh, surely he wouldn’t have done that,” Dianne said, wondering how they would ever deal with such a circumstance if it were true.

  “Well, it sure looks like it could be possible,” Morgan answered.

  “So what do we do if that is the case?” Zane asked. “I don’t hardly intend to go back to Missouri.”

  Morgan nodded. “Me neither.”

  “I don’t think any of us could endure the trip back—at least not right now. Ma couldn’t travel anymore and winter isn’t that far off.”

  “Mountains get colder sooner. Plus we’re farther north,” Zane offered. “Seasons will change over the next few weeks.”

  “Be that as it may,” Dianne continued, “we have to figure out what to do. We need shelter. If Uncle Bram can’t be found, we’ll have to search out a place to live. We have money, so paying rent shouldn’t be a problem. We also have all these goods, plus the extra livestock. I think we’re going to need to sell off the animals, except for our own horses and maybe a cow and some chickens. We can sell the wagons and such too. Maybe keep one.”

  “Do you think Ma will allow for that?” Zane asked seriously.

  Dianne realized suddenly she’d again taken on a leadership role. “Look, she can’t very well hope to feed the animals through the winter. We have grain for the horses and can probably purchase hay and straw. If not, we’ll make do as best we can. But we can’t keep all these oxen and milk cows alive until spring. Someone is bound to want them. I remember Mr. Selby saying that animals sell at a premium up here.”

  “Well, if Ma agrees to it, I think it’s a good idea.”

  Dianne considered the idea of putting together some sort of sale. “I wonder if we can have an auction. Do you suppose that would be possible? We could auction the livestock and the wagons and all the other goods. That would give us a considerable size of money. It definitely should be enough with what we already have to last us till spring.”

  “We’ll need to keep enough supplies to see ourselves through the winter,” Morgan commented.

  Dianne nodded. “So you’ll both stay that long?” The boys exchanged a look and pushed back their hats in unison. Their actions were mirror images of each other.

  “What makes you think we wouldn’t?” Zane questioned.

  Dianne sighed and leaned against the wagon wheel. “Look, you two have done nothing but talk about wanting to go your own way since we’ve been on the trail. Zane, I know you want to join up with the army, and Morgan, you seem bent on exploring and just moseying around. I don’t blame either one of you, but neither do I have the liberty to make such decisions for myself. I’m going to have to stay put and take care of Mama and the baby, and that’s fine with me.

  “However, the winter is coming up fast and I don’t know how we’ll get through it if you two aren’t here to help with wood and water and whatever animals we keep. I just want to know if you’ll at least stay through the winter. Then, even if we don’t find Uncle Bram by spring, you can go your own way and I’ll make other arrangements.”

  Her brothers seemed surprised by her take-over attitude. Dianne was surprised by it herself. For reasons that eluded her, taking charge of the family just seemed the natural thing to do.

  “I don’t plan to leave you and Ma alone this winter,” Morgan said firmly. “I don’t think Zane thinks to do that either, do you?” He looked to his brother, as did Dianne.

  “I can wait until spring to join up, but after that, I’d really like to make my own way. By then I’ll be nearly nineteen. Old enough to be on my own for sure.”

  Dianne chuckled, but there was bitterness in the tone. “I’m nearly seventeen, and I think whether we like it or not, we are on our own.”

  As if to drive her point home, their mother returned at that moment. The rage was gone and in its place, Dianne could see that defeat and sorrow had taken over.

  Zane helped their mother back up into the wagon. Once Susannah was seated she spoke. “I don’t know what we’re going to do. Bram isn’t here. He doesn’t live here; he just picks up supplies and mail here.” She turned to go inside the wagon.

  “Wait,” Dianne called. She would risk her mother’s ire and press forward to discuss the obvious needs of shelter and selling off the livestock. Th
ey had no time to waste.

  “What?” her mother asked blankly.

  Dianne could see tears forming in her mother’s eyes again. She hated being the cause of any more pain. “We were talking—the twins and I. We figured if you didn’t find Uncle Bram we would need to find a place to live. We need to sell off the oxen and some of the milk cows and maybe all the wagons except one.”

  Susannah shook her head. “I don’t care what you do. Find a place or don’t. I just don’t care.” With that she disappeared into the wagon—no doubt to forget about her misery in sleep.

  Dianne turned to her brothers. They would have to act fast before their mother changed her mind. “Zane, go back to the newspaper office. Tell them we need to place an ad and that we also need some announcements printed up to post around town. Find out what it would cost. Morgan, go talk to the sheriff or whoever else is in charge and see what the law is about holding an auction. See if you can’t also find out where we would be allowed to hold an auction.”

  “What are you going to do while we’re gone?” Morgan questioned.

  “I’m going to start going over the inventory, and I’m going to try to comfort Mama,” Dianne said matter-of-factly. It seemed the die was cast and her job was to be the matriarch of the family. She felt her strength bolstered by the look of approval on the faces of her older brothers. “I’m also going to pen a letter to Trenton and get him out here. By spring the war will surely be over and his need to avenge Pa will be behind him. If he can come here by spring, you’ll both be free to go your own ways.”

  CHAPTER 16

  TRENTON STILL FELT THE NEED TO LOOK OVER HIS SHOULDER, even now, weeks after having escaped the Wilson gang’s company. At night when he was all alone it seemed like he could almost hear Jerry’s wicked laughter and ugly comments. The man cared nothing for anyone. He’d been glad to be rid of Robbie, saying that he was a simpleton who didn’t know which end of his gun to shoot.

  Trenton had tried to get Jerry to talk about what had happened at the bank, but all Jerry cared about was Yankee gold. Trenton had declared his desire to check up on Robbie and Mr. Danssen, but Jerry told him in no uncertain manner that he’d just as soon shoot Trenton as look at him. He was confident Trenton would bring the law down on them and demanded that Sam keep his eye on Trenton so that he couldn’t escape into town.

  Sam was a lazy man, however, and when he nodded off to sleep, Trenton made a hasty departure. He had no idea where he’d go. He had no money; Jerry refused to cut him in on the bank take until after he was confident of Trenton’s loyalties. He had his horse, rifle, and pistol, and the only thing Trenton felt he could part with was the rifle. It hadn’t brought him a whole lot of money when he’d sold it to a shopkeeper in Jefferson City, but it gave him a good meal and some money in his pocket.

  Trenton made his way from southeast Missouri to Kansas City, where talk of the war was escalated. It seemed funny. The war was actually invading the town of New Madrid, whereas Kansas City seemed a safe piece away from battle. In New Madrid, people seemed to avoid even talking about the war. The threat was so very real that speaking of it seemed unnecessary.

  But here, the newspapers proclaimed the threats and concerns, listing details of every battle as they became available. People discussed the war on every street corner and over meals and even in church.

  Down to his last few pennies, Trenton was at a loss as to what he’d do next. There was no hope of getting a hotel or boardinghouse room.

  He tried to find a job. Going from one business to another, he explained he was a shopkeeper’s son and knew the business—that he could tote and fetch if nothing else—but no one would hire him. Due to Jayhawkers and other border ruffians, everyone seemed wary of strangers these days, and any spirit of generosity was lost in the wake of the war. At one dry goods store, an older woman did take pity on him and gave him some jerky and crackers. She told him she’d be praying for him, but Trenton wasn’t at all sure God would listen, much less care about someone like him.

  After a few days without food and with the cold weather setting in, Trenton was sure God wasn’t listening. He thought about selling his remaining gear. He still had his pistol, saddle, and horse. But a man needed all of those things to survive. How could he possibly make his way to Montana Territory without them?

  “If I go,” he muttered.

  For weeks now he’d figured to make his way north. At least he could check up on his family and know whether they’d arrived safely. He’d had no word from them, but then again, he hadn’t bothered to check in with the post office in New Madrid before leaving. Dianne probably had written, but now Trenton would never know.

  Leaving his horse tied at the end of the street, Trenton made his way down the boardwalk. He caught his reflection in the window of a greengrocer. No wonder folks won’t hire me. I look like an outlaw. With a growth of whisker stubble and dust clinging to his clothes, Trenton made a rather ominous picture.

  Maybe I can wash up in the river, he thought as he continued down the street. But even as the thought came to mind, Trenton’s stomach rumbled loudly. He couldn’t wait that long. He was starving, and now his Sunday school upbringing passed by the wayside altogether as he contemplated how to steal some food.

  He stepped inside a general mercantile, glancing around to see what was to be had. He wanted jerked meat and maybe crackers or bread, but those things would be hard to slip off with. The store was crowded, so that helped his cause. Spying a bowl of apples atop the counter, he took two when no one was looking and quickly stuck them in his pocket.

  Guilt washed over him as he thought of his mother. She would be horrified to know how low he’d sunk. Blowing up the Union supply house, doing nothing to stop a bank robbery, keeping company with killers, and now thieving.

  He moved out of the mercantile and headed down the street to another store. Here he accidentally ran into a woman who was moving toward the door, scattering her goods on the floor. Trenton hadn’t meant for the accident to happen, but it seemed like providence as he helped her collect her goods, managing to slip a wrapped parcel into his pocket. Surely it was either meat or cheese.

  “Where are my buttons?” she questioned, looking around the floor. “I had a package of buttons.

  Trenton handed her a spool of thread. “I’m not sure. I think something might have gone over there,” he said, pointing behind her.

  He pretended to crawl around looking for the missing buttons while another customer engaged the woman in conversation. They were deep in details about some woman named Mrs. Hancock when Trenton managed to slip out the door.

  He made his way back to his horse, figuring there was no sense in pushing his luck. He’d go back to the woods by the river and see if he could shoot himself a squirrel or rabbit. Then he’d have a good supper.

  As he rode, he unwrapped the package in his pocket and found it to be a wedge of cheese. Without waiting, he bit off a huge chunk. Nothing had ever tasted so good. He reached in his other pocket and pulled out one of the apples. Alternating between the two, Trenton finally started to feel satisfied. He couldn’t help thinking, however, of days gone by and his mother’s home-cooked meals. He thought, too, of his warm bed and the security he’d always known in his parents’ care.

  At nineteen, Trenton wanted very much to prove himself as a man, but so many times he felt helpless—childish. Like now … he would give just about anything for someone to take care of him.

  As he neared the river, the air grew heavier with dampness. The cold permeated Trenton’s thin coat, leaving him to wonder if it wouldn’t be better to head south rather than north. He had no funds to buy anything warmer, and it wasn’t going to be long before snow and chilled breezes were the routine of the day rather than precursors to the coming change of season.

  Maybe I could head to Texas, he thought. He’d heard all sorts of stories about that area. There always seemed to be one ranch or another that would hire men to help with the livestock—not that Trent
on had any experience. His hands were a bit callused and worn from his last few weeks at the reins but certainly nothing like those of a cowboy.

  He found his camp and dismounted. Hobbling the horse’s feet, Trenton pulled his pistol to check the ammunition and considered his choices. If he headed off to the west, the forest afforded better coverage and more possibilities for squirrels. If he went east, the land opened up a bit and would be prime ground for rabbits.

  Figuring rabbits would be easier, Trenton headed toward the meadow. He walked for about thirty minutes without seeing so much as a single sign of life. The oaks and elms along the river rustled as the wind picked up. Trenton pulled his coat shut and secured the bottom buttons—the only two remaining.

  He was about to give up and head toward the trees when a flash of white caught his eye. He followed the movement and saw a rabbit meandering through the tall grass. It stopped in a small clearing. Taking a bead on the animal, Trenton squeezed the trigger just as the rabbit raised its head to sniff the air.

  The bullet shot clean through the neck. The rabbit gave out a death squeal and fell over. Trenton ran to where the animal lay, feeling quite delighted with his accomplishment. He could almost taste the meat.

  Trenton immediately set to cleaning the animal, not wishing to have the mess at his camp to draw other beasts. Once he’d completed his task, Trenton went back to camp and immediately set to cooking his find.

  In spite of his earlier meal of apple and cheese, Trenton was already hungry again. He’d just turned the rabbit over the fire when a rustling in the brush caught his attention.

  “Hello the camp!” came the voice of a man.

  Trenton reached for his pistol, still convinced that Jerry Wilson would run him down. “Who’s there?”